The Sun. — London, England, 1836-11-30 00:00:00

LITERATURE. The reminiscences of a gentle and meditative na ture, hurried reluctantly by the force of circumstances into the every-day, heartless world of action, are thus gracefully described : " Pleasant it was, With hopes and fears barred out, alone to sit, And watch life's taper silently burn on ; What sadness entered there, was all my own, I made no others wretched." The description of a storm, and of its power to still for a moment, by its 'terrific, overwhelming grandeur, t hat enchains and engrosses imagination, the upbraid jugs of a guilty conscience, has rarely been more ef fectively pourtrayed than in the following passage. We object, however, to the epithet " huge," which conveys no positive or appropriate meaning. " Let the storm on, it breaks no calm in me, Nor to my mind brings added turbulence. Rather it stills tumultuous thoughts within, To watch the uproar of these elements, The rushing wind and the loud hissing rain, . And lightning pale that scrawls with hurried hand Huge hieroglyphics on the screen of night. Peal on, ye thunders—and urge all your fires Ye quick repeated lightnings— For while your dreadful pageant is displayed, The vulture conscience something will relax The .ixture of his talons." The word " - scrawl" applied to the action of the Irked lightning, has all the vivid effect of painting. 4 t i$ as startling, but as true, as one of the ghastly, t agged flashes in Martin's Fall of Nineveh. The t houghts suggested by a serene summer night are not less beautiful " At such an hour Of calm restoeed, the good man looks to heaven. Grateful, with sense of sweet security. . His friendly saints are there, and-a benign Parental nature from the peopled skies Bends its protecting presence." There is infinite grace and tenderness in the suh jeined reflections which arc put into the mouth of a I °ung and impassioned female "He is unhappy, girl. There's something binds The thorns about his temples; Would I might— !, in his stead, would wreathe them on my own, Oh, he was ever gentle, wise and good, His saddest temper sweet as others mirth, His lalameless mirth like joyous peals that ring From calm and sacred towers." The s ame c h arac t er , whi c h i s a p ure o ff s p r i ng o f the aey, thus , gives vent to the promptings of her young sPair. She is in love of course, and equally as a u tter of course, unhappy in her attachment : " I fix my rest at one step from the grave— -1 will live neighbourly with death; I'll watch The white reflection feesra his marble home Steal on my quiet cheek, and settle there : And smiling note how, day by day, I grow To the complexion of that statue pale, . Which soon will lie upon my monument." The advice of an old friend to Bianca, whose-gentle fe °l ttra t er, by the bye, is admirably ponrtrayed in these ._ characteristic lines I would not hear her name, I pray you speak it not—l hope that none Will ever tell it me,—for I have known the Some names to love, but never one to hate— advice, we say, of a faithful old counsellor to this o rr clw-stricken maiden, - is as poetic in expression as it generous in sentiment : " Gentle Bianca, let me counsel you, Be not too limited in what you prize, But build content on many,common joys ; Be as a wave of multitudinous life, That with the general movement rolls along To shores where all must break. Discard this nice, This separate structure of your happiness, And live the one of many.' t e 4ll aged Minstrel's reminiscences of his past youth :nam e . one of the finest and most impassioned pas eta of the. drama. We give one brief extract, where he descriLes the boyhood of a careless, sanguine " No method in his happiness has he, N or long-expectell4oy ; but one by one, The little hours their several charges drop, Of.weal or woe; he finds them at his feet." v -he same Minstrel afterwards pourtrays his present OR, when age has stolen on him, and robbed his . " 4 of its sunshine :--- " Old age, that Winter drear which into spring lireaks never ; age that exempts not any, That lays injunctions on the warrior's arm, And shakes the statesman in his council-chair— ,A,ee'robs the minstrel of his song • and he Whose melody has been entreated oft I BY beauty and by knighthood, now Must crave Reluctant cars with snit importunate= Farewell, thou world ,Of life and death made for a poet's dream tseauty, and love and song, I leave ye all; leav e e'en this rememb rance o f p as t j oys ! Their very tombs are pleasant; at each urn 7 1ie stationary . fbrm unfading leans , 0 f the past happiness. Oh Nature sweet,. Thou young and giddy mother of us all, i '; ! 'y child am I, and need it is I weep, 'p is •en as a child to part with thee." l ik\a ge r eflections of the guilty Guiclone on seeing the phi t ( kly of his daughter Bianca, arc in the truest Or Pathos t 're was I drawn by hope to see thee living, A d I must greet thee dead, my daughter, dead ! l" 4 t long, dark eye-lash lifts not at my coming ; g, ° iat smile is not on me ; that hand which lies .. Inotionless, yet nothing , 1 „ ; ) burdensome, give its gentle welcome, rises not. latest loved, and in my wintry world, 7c?.blossom left, thee too the winds have swept. 470Terni, music is heard from an adjoining apartment.) this is kind 1 It is a strain that wins o", v gentle thought—therchaunt a requiem Aj d r c the young and fair, that mourns her . dead, ..Teg s her into heaven-- Pleasant faith, that can revive the lost, eq sheph er d i n the human f am il y , I ti e , l . l tter e e awhile by death. l'were sweet to think, On ;eeriling-happy child, that this thy sm il e `y Ps so cold—this quiet on thy. brow— of r's traces f a i n t l e ft printed on the cl a y, O f t t I I I , Y first vision in a world of bliss._ lI first welcome by the angelic throng, Oh !l ing approval of.the parting soul. A, i ' could I follow on, tho' here at fault, u nd thee living yet in other clime, hahare she too lives, my wife, and greets thee now, W I"mother in the angel, on her child 14 3 , ee Nrig deli c i ous tears !-- 41 ;1 11 "Pd heart grows light and from the well e tter .teelines has the b stone been rolled— Le a l d iee Ping child, mute helper in my strife,. e r to other worlds thro' love in this, i t,h ) ,;7' a farewell look I Lo, I have stained dad r . e ‘e v ek with tears such as thy innocence d Ov er need t o s h e d." " Ption of the dead Bianca, (the most • ~1 G UID ONE. Saunders and Orley, London, 1836. The principal poem in this work, which is printed in the modest but uninviting form of a pamphlet, is dramatic; that is to say, it contains a plot, one or two incidents, and much skilful, and occasionally some iin- Passioned dialogue ; in its essence however, it belongs rathe r to the class of reflective or philosophical poems, than to the drama, bearing in this respect, as also in he halti ng character of its ac ti on , cons id era bl e resem blance t o Phillip Van _ Artevelde. It is however no servile imitation, but the production of a kindred ge nius. Mr. Smith, the author, has fancy and feeling quite sufficient to enable him to set up for himself; as his description of the first faint dawn of love in the breast of a shy young girl will testify. We extract this pas for it is replete with truth and delicacy of senti ment, expressed in an eloquent, unaffected style : " A woman's love, we know—not yet avowed Solicited, or bruited to the world— Is so oer'ru!ed by virgin purity, And state serene of womanhood, 'tie found A harmless visitant. A pleasing fear It plays observed upon the verge of thought Like silent lightning in a summer sky, Whose lambent beauty does but hint the power Which may some other time be perilous. A passion which has lived but in the mind, Remote from circumstance of life, is soon Obliterate, or if recalled to view, Shows like the wreck of fancy. He who roused From broken slumbers of the night, walks forth Under the moon, and after some time spent In sweet and visionary muse, returns To his oblivious couch ;—when next lie wakes, He calls to mind his midnight walk, confused And mingled with his dreams ; scarce to himself That recollection of the past belongs. Now, such remembrances of her love—no more— May in an idle, retrospective hour Visit Bianca." carefully finished character in the play) has all the dis tinctness and precision of the finest sculpture : " After long; search, I found her sitting on her mother's tomb, Now as the marble cold ;. her forehead leaned Upon her arm, as one who pensive sate. • Woe wearied and forlorn ; but on her lip The straggled tresses la 7 ; Death, rudest wooer, • Close kneeling at her side, withheld the band That Should have put them back." An impressive thought, which is also as original as anything in modern literature, is strikingly developed in these lines : " The man who journies with a living crowd, Who joins the social sin; the social prayer, With them is tempted, sorrows, and repents ; Stands in the sight of Heaven with the same crowd, Where all have done, and all have sulfured, wrong, And general guilt fur general pardon pleads. But I, who stand apart from all my kind, Confronted with my God, sustain alone, My trial and my doom." The true catholic spirit breathes in the following fine sentiment, which has a moral sublimity about it worthy of Milton or of Wordsworth:— " Who studies virtue learns religion too ; There is devotion in the moral will That acts for the felicity of all, And piety is goodness." We have been more profuse in our extracts from this dramatic poem than is our wont, because it has -stolen unnoticed into the world; without, so far as we know, a single blast from the penny trumpet of criti cism to bid it welcome. The author, however, need not regret this general silence, for he has that within him which will be sure to make its way. From the occasional. cloudiness of his imagery, and the redun dancy of his-language, and more especially from the evident difficulty he finds in individualising his cha racters, we suspect that he is a young, unpractised writer, who has been too busy with his own feelings and motives, to analyse those of the world about him ; and if so, we predict that when observation and expe rience shall have disciplined his judgment, he will achieve a reputation equal to that enjoyed by the author of " Philip Van Artevelde." Even as it is, his " Gui doue " is incomparably superior to any dramatic poem teat has been published within the last three years. t is full of ideas ; bestrewed all over with the rice lights of fancy ; copious and unaffected in its language ; and musical in the flow of its verse. The imagery, too, has nothing of an embroidered patch-work charac ter about it ; but rises naturally from the subject ; is wrought into its very texture, with which it has an es • sential connexion. Viewed, however, strictly as a drama, " Guidonc "is not without many defects. Its action is slow and languid ; its characters differ rather in name than nature, all being of the contemplative class ; and it is wholly deficient in condensed and mas culine vigotr. It touches the heart, but makes no stirring appeal to the passions. But who, since Shaks , peare, has done this ? Sheridan Knowles has partially succeeded ; but a really good tragedy is still a deside ratum, which the present age seems unable, or unwilling to supply. Possibly Mr. Bulwer, who knows the world, and in his character of lawyer Brandon, has shown that he can sound the depths of the human heart, may give us something good ; and we are the more sanguine on this point, because the subject he has selected for his forthcoming tragedy, is every way suited to the purposes of the drama. The character of the weak, impassioned, penitent Duchess de la Valliere, who was wooed back from the solitude of the cloister into the heartless world of fashion which she had quitted in disgust, merely to gratify the self love of a capricious despot (Louis XIV.), who knew not how to appreciate her worth, but permitted her to die neglected and broken-hearted--this character, if well wrought up, is calculated to produce as striking an effect on the stage as in the closet. The period, too, is one of stirring human interest, when France was still unsettled by the recently finished wars of the Fronde ; when Louis was just entering upon his am bitious career; and the sagacious, high-principled Colbert—mean only in his behavour to the Duchess de la Valliere—was struggling with the War Minister Louvois for supremacy in the Cabinet. While thus on the subject of tragedy, we may just say a few passing words respecting Serjeant Talfourd's lon. It has been said that this play is a sterling classical pro duction. Never was a greater mistake. To be sure, lon himself, with his heroism and unity of purpose, bears some slight resemblance to one of the charac ters of Sophocles, or rather of Euripides ; but as for the language of the play, which has been so much in sisted on, it is throughout as unclassical as it is pos sible to be. It has beauties--exquisite beauties—of its own ; but none of the Greek drama. For the se vere, majestic simplicity of the classic writers, it sub stitutes sparkling, rhetorical fancies, and passages studded with metaphors, like a frosty night with stars. Now, in the Greek dramatists, it is the thought and sentiment only that are grand and imposing ; the lan guage is chaste and unornamented to a degree. But, in truth, in the whole wide range of English litera ture, we know of but two strictly classical productions —the " Laodamia" of Wordsworth, and the " Ode written in 1746" by Collins. The former of these choice rarities might almost be mistaken for a transla- tion of Euripides ; and the latter (could we forget the circumstances to which it has reference) for one of a fragment of Alcmus or Simonides, preserved by Stohceus. But to return to the little work before us. Attached to the drama is a poem entitled " Solitude," of which it is impossible to think too highly. The morbid struggles of an imaginative manhood spent in utter seclusion ; its alternate joyousness and despondency ; its fitful, active energies at war with its constitutional listlessness ; its quick sense of pleasure strangled in the birth by some vague, dreamy apprehension of the future ; its faint-heartedness, which is ever a thorn rankling in the side of its self-respect ; its horror of a world 'of which it knows nothing, but with which it would fain become acquainted—all these mental phenomena, the almost invariable results of solitude, arc pourtrayed with infinite skill, vigour, and meta physical subtlety. • Sir Ralph Lopez, Bart., has contributed very liber ally to the rebuilding a new church at Beekleigh, adjoining his estates in pevonshire. It is currently reported, and we believe on good foundation, that her Majesty is about to reside fer some months in this neighbourhood (Southampton). Bad health is assigned as a reason.—Hampshire Paper. At the beginning of this month a quarrel took place over a gaming table between a barrister and a merchant, the result of which was that a meeting was arranged in the Bois de Vincennes. The rain fell in torrents : the two combatants, however, took off their coats and fired at each other twice. A fortnight afterwards they both died from inflammation on the chest.—Paris Paper. - The Presbytery of Paisley are going to withdraw their licence from the Rev. James Carlisle, of Dublin, on account of his pamphlet against the Westminster Confes sion of Faith, and his opposition to subscription. This will remove him from the Synod of Ulster. On Friday last, in the parish of Dunlop, a woman was delivered of a daughter, being her 25th child.---Scollish Paper. The remains of the balloon in which Blanchard crossed from Dover to Calais many years ago, is still to be seen suspended from the roof of the Post-office at Calais. — Rae N ilson. CHURCH RATES.--At the recent meeting for the abolition of these imposts, held at Carlisle, a at :jority of 755 recorded their votes against the proposed rate. The assumption of the title of Earl of Shelburne by the second son of the Marquis of Lansdowne, inatoad of that of the Earl, of Kerry, is said to have been caused by the interesting state of Lady Kerry, who, it is rumoured, is in a situation likely to g►ve birth to an heir to the noble house of Lansdowne. _ A delightful hall and supper were given on F r id ay last by M rs . H ervey , on the corning of age of her eldest s o n, at her splendid mansion, Tekwall Bury, near Piggleswade. g The company cons i s t e d o f u pwards of 200 of the fi rs t fami lies within 50 miles. The whole went elr with reat eplqt. TETE SUJ\, LONDON, WEDNESDAYS IsTOVEMItEit 30, 183EJ BRIGHTON TUESDAY. Their Majesties have not left the Palace to-day, on ac count of the severe storm of wind. His Majesty sat yesterday and this morning to Sir M. Slice, President of the Royal Academy. - The Countess of Brownlow's month as Lady-in-Waiting on the Queen will expire on Thursday, when her Ladys4lip will be succeede Iby the Countess of Sheffield. The Earl and Countess of Brownlow, we believe, shortly take their departure for Belton. Yesterday his Majesty gave audiences to Lord Hill and Sir H. Seymour. The Royal dinner party, by invitation, comprised--Lieu tenant-General the Bon. Sir W. and Lady Lumley, Ma. jor-General Sir Arthur Clifton, the Field Officers of the Grenadier Regiment of Guards, Lieut.-Colonel Madox, Major-General Sir Jasper Nicoll, lion: -William and Mr. Ashley, Lord Bexley, Sir G. Hamilton, Lord Hill, Sir J. Reyeett, the Earl and Countess of Errol, Lieut.-General Sir Henry Cumming. This town was visited this morning by one of the most violent storms of wind that have been experienced for many years. Many of the streets are covered with the fragments . of tiles and slates, blown from the roofs ; many houses have been entirely unroofed, and hundreds of windows have been blown in during the storm. A man was killed by a chimney-pot, blown from a house in the New Stoyue I and the Chain Pier has sustained considerable 'injury, sonic of the suspension rods having snapped, and a great portion of the wooden flooring between the third and fourth piers being blown into the water. After blowing with tremendous fury, from about nine o'clock till one, the storm suddenly sub sided to a perfect calm. COURT CIRCULAR. Their Royal Highnesses the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria, attended by Lady Theresa Strangways, Baroness Lebzen, and Sir John Conroy, left Ran ate yes. terday morning, and arrived at Claremont in the afternoon. Viscount Melbourne, accompanied by the Hon W. Cowper, his Private Secretary, left town yesterday after noon on a visit to the Earl and Countess Cowper, at their seat, Panshanzer, Herts. The Archbishop of Canterbury had an interview with Lord Gleneig yesterday at the Colonial-office. The Grecian Minister transacted business yesterday at the Foreign-office. Sir F. Doyle, Chairman of the Excise, had an interview with the Chancellor of the Exchequer, yesterday, in Down ing -street. The Earl of Minto had kdinner party lost evening, at his residence in the Admiralty. The Judicial Committee of his Majesty's most Honour able Privy Council sat 'yesterday. An important motion occupied the Court the greater part of the day, Sir Charles Wetherell appearing respecting an order of the Privy Council, dated the 16th April, 1834, (in an appeal from Bengal,) affirming the decree of the Court below. The parties for whom Sir Charles appeared were the appellants in that case, and at the time the order was made were minors, and were unfortunately unprotected by their guar dian, who neglected to prosecute the appeal before their Lordships ; no Counsel attending on that occasion on their part. Mr. Stuart followed on thq same side. Mr. Sergeant Spankie was heard for the respondent, and Sir C. Wetherell replied. FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE. ARRIVALS. Captain Gilbert, in Half Moon-street, from the lonian Is lands ; Major and Mrs. Mitchell, in Park-street, from Har rowgate ; Captain Hamilton, in Albemarle-street, from Paris ; Colonel and Mrs. Barry, in St. James's-street, from Paris; Capt. Sinclair, in Brook -street, from Portsmouth; Lieut.-Col. Gardiner, in Waterloo-place, from Lyme Regis, Dorsetshire ; Captain Scott, in Piccadilly, from Windsor; Captain Bartho mew Mortresor, in Jermyn-street, from Paris ; Major Guig nard, in Pall-mall, from Brussels ; Colonel and Mrs. West, in Grosvenor-street, from Ramsgate ; Major and Mrs. King ston, in Curzon-street, Mayfair, from Ramsgate ; Col one l D e Vipond, in Sackville-stre e t, f rom Paris. DEPARTURES. Miss Wright Wilson, for Drayton Lodge, Andover, Hants; Captain Cowell, for Dublin ; Colonel and Mrs. Ashton, for Plymouth ; Captain Gwatkin, for Bristol ; Captain Irvine, for Portsmouth ; Major and Mrs. Lake, for Bath ; Colonel and Mrs. Meyer, for Clifton ; Licutenant O'Reilly, for the Medi terranean ; Captain S. Whitehead, for Portsmouth ; Major and Mrs. Wharton, for Bath; Captain Radcliffe, for Dover; Colonel and Mrs. Hawkins, for the Isle of Wight ; Major and Mrs. Hall, for Chatham ; Captain Massey, for Dublin ; Cap. tain Humphrey Barnard, for Portsmouth. Lord and Lady on a tour. Count and Countess Bathyany have left Portland place, for Brighton. His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland has appointed Colonel Poten to be his Private Secretary, in the room of,Captain Charles Jones, and Captain Slade, 3d Dra goons, to be one of his Equerries. Lord John Russell has appointed Charles Erskine, Esq., and Charles Lister, Esq., a relative of Lady John Russell, to fill the vacant clerkships in the Office of the Secretary of State for the Home Department. The sudden and unexpected appearance in town of Earl Spencer created a good deal of gossip yesterday at the Clubs. .yhner have left Coulson's Hotel, The remains of the late Hon. Augustus Lamb, the son of Lord Melbourne, will be removed, in a very private manner, on Friday next, from his Lordship's residence in South-street, for interment in the family vault at Hatfield, near Brocket Hall, Herts. Cashiobury Park, .Earl Essex's • seat, and the Grove, near Watford, Herts, the Earl of Clarendon's, will be somewhat infringed upon in their. privacy and comfort when the Birmingham Railroad, which traverses these de lightful retreats, comes into operation. Sir Robert Gordon, on his arrival from Brighton, % isited the E ar l of Aberdeen at Argyll House. Lord and Lady Sidney are entertaining a select party at Frognall, near Footscray, Kent. Countess Cirosvenor has arrived in Hamilteln.place, on a visit to her mother, the Duchess Countess of Suther land,' from Motcombe House. The Earl and Countess Manvers and family have arrived at Thoresby Park, Nottinghamshim, from Chel tenham. • Mr. Byng's splendid don a ti on o f 2,0001. to t h e Metropolitan Churches Fund ought not to pass unnoticed, furnishing, as it does, so wide a contrast to the total ab sence of liberality in so many other quarters. The members, of the Abingdon Dinner Club gave most splendid ball and supper on Friday last in the Council Chamber to upwards of 200 of the principal Nobility and Gentry in the neighbourhood. he Earl and Countess Grey are entertaining a dis tinguished circle of friends at HOwick. The Marchioness of Clanricarde, Hon. Captain F. Grey, Lady E. Bulteel, and Hon. Captain H. Grey arc amongst the recent arrivals. Mr. K. Tynte, M.P., was prevented attending the West Somerset agricultural meeting on Friday by a very severe attack of inflammatory sore throat and fever, which ; we regret .to say, still confines the Hon. Gentleman to his room. The Earl of Sandwich is rebuilding on a splendid scale the wings of Hinchinbroke House, which were des troyed by fire several years since. Their Royal Highnesses the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria, attended by Lady T. Strangways, Baroness Lehzen, and Sir John Conroy, left Ramsgate yesterday morning, and arrived at Claremont in the after noon. Earl Cadogan came to Queensberry House from his seat, Santondownham, Suffolk, on Saturday, to meet the Countess mid the Ladies Honoria and Augusta, on their arrival from a short Contipental tour. His Majesty's Keeper of the Privy Purse (Major- General Sir Henry Wheatley, K.C.H.) has appointed his son, J. li. Wheatley, Esq., to be Secretary to the Privy Ptirse, vice John Bott, Esq., resigned. The Duke of Dorset will leave Drayton, Nor thamptonshire, next week, for the Pavilion at Brighton. The Earl of Shaftesbury has arrived at his seat,- St. Giles's Park, near CranhoUrne. The Paymaster of the Household, Thomas Shift= ner, Esq., has embarked for Madeira, where he will reside some time'for the improvement of his health. The Dutch Minister, Al. Dedel, has, for the last two days, been busily engaged at several of the Foreign Embasies. Lord Melbourne's deceased son and only child, the Hon. G. A. F. Lamb, was in his 30th year, having been born on the 11th August, 1807. This amiable young man has long laboured under infirmity which renders his demise a happy release. Sir Frederick Lamb, Lord Melbourne's next brother, is now presumptive heir to the title. It was reported last evening that Earl Forteseue, the father of Lord Ebrington, was seriously ill. The vener able Earl is in the 83d or 84th year of his age. Th e f am il y are at Castle Hill, Devon. Lord Morpeth intends to bring in a Bill next Ses sion for the equalization of taxation in the city of Dublin, 4114 111410114 r c - Gorge's pgrisli qtpenahle to 411 n y 4 i O4 , t a m9eti3l of the Town Council of Ayr on Wednesday last, the freedom of the burgh was unanimously voted to Lord James Stuart, in testimony of the Council's approbation of his Lordship's Parliamentary conduct. cite gdinburgh Tories cont9rlnlqt9 giyinz Sir IL Feel 4 di p per ills yi s it Seotland rin January. There been a heavy fall of snow at Bath and i n that neiihhoprhop4l TO TEE EDITOR-OF THE SUIT Sin,—A letter having appeared in the Literary Gazette of last Saturday, attempting to vindicate a supposed cen s u re of Captain Back as a navigator, said to be contained in a wOrk entitled "'Narrative of a Journey to the Shores of the Arctic Ocean, by Richard King," which the Editor " thinks is ill-judged, and not likely to incline willing, to listen to his—the cars present wr i ter ' s — own desiges," fe cuting a further -surv e y of th e or pros northern coast of N9rth America, in February next, it is of the utmost importance that the earliest opportunity should be seized of responding to these charges. Under such circumstances, and in con sideration of the national character of the project, I shaft feel truly thankful if you can spare room in The Sun for the. following remarks, Au essertion In the Literary Gazette, that I have " siquated that Back abandoned the Arctic coast too Soon" in the history of ray Journey—which I will leave for the reading public to decide whether or not the work contains any pas sage that will bear such a construction—has given rise to three extracts from Captain Back's Journal, quoted by Mr. Charles Beek, of Verulam-buildings, Gray's-Inn-lane. The first is Inc:ant te demonstrate that in leaving the coast Captain Back was guided entirely by his orders, wherein lie was desired 44 on no account to prolong his stay beyond period varying from the 12th to the 20th of August." - The second speaks for itself. August 15, Captain Back states, "_Every resource was exhausted ; and it was in vain to expect that any efforts, however strenuous could avail. I had for some timo cherished the notion of dividing the party, leaving four to protect the boat and property, whilst the remainder, with Mr. King, would have aecompanied me on a land journey to Point Turnagaln ; but this scheme was completely frustrated by the Ldpracticability qf carrying any weight on a soil in which, at every step, we sank haft: leg deep." The last extract is intended to prove that, according to Captain Back's instructions,'" he was bound to explore the Great Fish River," consequently that " he would not have been justified in exploring the Fish River." With regard to the first extract, it appears Mr. Back does not give his brother credit for that Nelsonian character, which at p. 21 of his Preliminary Chapter, it will be seen he so eminently merits. After stating that no plan could be devised for prosecuting further discoveries in the North, Captain Back adds :—" Had I not been fully convinced of this, I should, in the hope of accomplishing one of tho'great objects of nay mission, have undoubtedly ventured to remain out another season, even though such an act had not received the sanction of the Committee." This is sufficient to show, that, in leaving the Polar Sea, Captain Back was not guided by his orders, but, like an intrepid and fearless traveller, that he had not determined upon retracing his steps until there remained no prospect of his further progress. The second is a most unfortunate extract, which I would have willingly left unnoticed, had not more than one re .viewer of my Narrative tendered opinions that therein is " hinted disapprobation of Captain Back"—a statement as ungenerous as it is untrue. Now as the inaccuraoy lam about to mention has not hitherto been the subject my pen, it is t o b e h ope d t h e public will charitably ' mit have in thi s i nstance, at least, refrant's,' 'from my command er ." At p. 415 o f C apta i n B ack's Journal it is stated I " as censurtnating despatched a party, furnished with a telescope and compass, to get the bearings to the westward. * * The exploring p arty returned at 11 p.m., and reported that, with hard labour, thq." had been able to follow the land for 15 miles." To make a distance, in a day, of 20 miles, "on a soil in which, at every step, the men sunk halfileg deep," must have required herculean strength indeed and I fear, therefore, that Mr. Back's seeorid extract will carry with it but little weight. Relative to the third extract, it is again necessary for me to inform Mr. Back, whether his brother was justified, or not justified, in exploring the Fish River instead of the Great Fish River, that Nelson-like he would have done so, if he had anticipated by so doing the benefit of his country ; which will be made evident on a reference to .pages 59, 75, 80, 81, 82, 87, &e. of his Journal ; and as the observationb in the latter page is short, to save .the reader's time I 'have thought proper to' quote it :—" Ultimately, after much em barrassment and perplexity, I decided on following up the original plan, as laid down in the paper read before the Royal Geographical Society." I have the honour to be, Sir, Your obedient humble servant, RICHARD KING. 4, Piccadilly, Nov. 28, 1836. DRURY-LANE THEATRE. She follows ezlei:lrn,l:aohtEtiali,,oadkm. . The announcement of Mr. Sheridan Knowles's new play, entitled The Wrecker's Daughter, attracted a crowded au dience to this theatre last night. The plot of this piece is as follows :—Marian (Miss Huddart) is the daughter of an old wrecker, Robert (Mr. Knowles), who had been mar ried to a woman of somewhat superior birth and of su perior nature; by whom,, and during whose life he had been weaned from the early habits of his dreadful trade. Upon her death he had, however, relapsed, but is still re strained from any excesses of heartlessness by the influ ence of his (laughter, in whom all the noble qualities of her mother survived. A mutual and fervent love exists between Marian and a young sailor, Edward (Mr. Cooper), who wins his livelihood honestly from the Ocean, and now enters upon one last voyage previous to their union. She is, however, also an object o 1 the foul desires of a wrecker named Norris (Warde), a man looked upon as the most remorseless of the coast ruffians, and whose passion is stimulated in this instance by a hatred which he bears his more reputable young rival. Edward sets out on his voyage, but the fair wind that bears him outward is converted to a storm, which throws a hapless strange vessel into the hands of the wreckers. Old Robert, in spite of the fervid remonstrances of. Marian, hurries to share in the spoil.lt is night. Norris, in order to get both father and daughter within his power, affects a sudden friendliness for the former,, and gives him liberty to try his fortunes on a specially fatal reef of the coast, which the ruffian had always appropriated to ,himself. Here a shipwrecked man, whose heart still beats, is thrown ashore, and Norris, finding that, in the darkness and confusion he is mistaken by Marian for her father, stabs the body within her sight, and hastily retires. He has used the knife of Robert in this deed of villainy, and takes other means, through the connivance of an associate named Wolf (Mr. Diddier), to throw every suspicion of the murder upon the old man, who is consequentlyseized. Norris, in order to get him out of the way, offers to let him escape from his custody, and urges him to fly to some foreign land. This scheme, is, however frustrated by the indignation of the father upon finding that Marian .betrays a conviction of his guilt. He is accordingly again carried to prison. Marian is compelled to appear against him—she cannot but swear to what she believed to she had, and on her evi dence he is committed, and his death appears assured. To crown the misery of Marian, a rumour reaches her at the same time of the loss of Edward's ship and'. all its crew, Norris now fancies the game to be in his own betide, and offers Marian that ho will sat'e her father's life, an prove his innocence, on the condition of her giving him her hand in marriage. She consents in utter despair—her re pugnance to Norris having been rendered intense in eanse quence of a dream Which she had bad, in which he appeared as the murderer of his own father, under eiromnstances simi lar to those which she had subseqUently witnessed. In point of, fact, in an interview between Norris and Wolf, the latter discovers to the former, that he had, in ifsioit:lsrhaouenletdtedeliueyopef.eeaochsurti his authorities year o i,r l te f sai eel Ignse t or o i:t l .c e r . ef a ltioi v iefs ! : A It C ti 1.1 \h o eale t ti ' ll. i iloai l ivb : . ; th e . murder jut committed, been a Parrioide. Nor nnleyatslaoi irfs, id t ult l ,:c i el e wisei n loo , aolan i dt n iilila . msl p dv ba t i pur suance - 1.1. reality a most prosperous voyage. This event alters not the determination of the-heroine, although it gives the last and deepest hue to her wretchedness. She goes to the church as to her grave---her senses wander—and the recollection of her dream comes powerfully across her mind—she relates it involuntarily and with all the farce which her imagination l en d s to it at the mo ment. The ruffian betrays by his manner the application of the dream, but persists indragging her to th e altar. At the entrance to the church he is, however, abruptly confronted with his associate. Wolf, who had re turned homewards, NH of remorse, and who reveals more distinctly the fact of the crime of which he had been privy. Norris, in the height of his fury, at this unexpected inter vention, stabs, Wolf, and by this rash villainy alone makes himself amenable to the law. He is seized and dragged to prison, raving and cursing i all around. At the same time, Marian ends all her woes in an union with her lover. Th e great merits of the Wrecker's Daug)iier are, first, the skilful way iu which its plot is evoked ; and secondly, its strict adherence throughout to the truth of nature. Though it contains many rare poetic passages, yet these always befit the characters.of those from whose lips they fall. There are no inappropriate ornaments or allusions ; no sacrifices of propriety to offoot, except, perhaps, in one or two of the minor ineidents where the surprise trespasses a lithe (111 the melodramatic, as in the case of the abrupt appearance of Wolf at the altar—just as Marian and Norris are going to be married—who is . placed ther e ev id ent l y f or the sake of " creati ng a seeeeteetat' There is no earthly reason why he s hglliti have been discovered, half maniac as he is, ruminating beside the altar. Far better, because More natural, that be had encountered the wedding wets' i n the ordinary way, while wandering, e ecevarses-etricken man, about the scenes wllicl h, 7.4liza, but dared not, to quit. The I, '-feei;rephe would have been brought about just tTi s. tea „, dile aIA 'the melo-dramatic surprise would.have been saved. If we except these few blemishes, we have nothing to object to . ; but, on the contrary, neteeh e . e eeee r i w4oi—to praise, in the If i rceeris: p i rpg,47,.. its 4a.racters are fiqely 049c.in*Aea l h'osp pspeemiiy of 414 ligt),ert. m- • 1 0•.- -- . , —Arian, and Black Norris. The following passages where Marian, half frenzied by the recollection that her own evidence !Jaz condemned her father to death, hears of the death of Edward, displays a thorough knowledge of the human heart " MARIAN. WCII, Stephen, n hat of ►nisery more For sure it in your errand by your looks! Tell ine—you can add nothing to the cup Already that o'erflows. Ii it of Edward ? Is lie dead? STEPIJEN. He is drowned op the coast of France. MARIAN. I hear it, and I do not she'd a tear, Nor feel the want to weep ; I welcome it "l'is good news---lis well he's dead The friends he leaves should put on holiday, Not mourning, clothes for him well, he's dead; How was he drowned ? STEPHEN. His ship, they say, innt down, With all the crew. MARIAN. With all the crew ! How fresh he look'd the d a y He went. Wh a t ho= .3 was in his eye,, whose fire You would have thought would r. e'er go out! He seein'd In speed to meet good fortune, as a friend . Already come in sight. I see him now Stepping with gallant a i r i nto the boat, And looking ' at the sea, as 'twere a thing Stable as the solid earth. My sailor lad ! Young, comely, manly, good, and fond of me. I little thought the look would be my last, Which promised I should sec thee soon again ! Thou died'st in good time—l thought justlnow I was past weeping." The sudden change from the numbing, tearless lethargy of despair to the quicker and gentler sensibilities, is ex pressed in this passage with a truth and simplicity worthy almost of Shakspeare. At first, Marian can think of nothing but, the father she has drowned to !the scaffold ; all minor griefs give way before this absorbing agony ; she has not even a tear for her doomed lover ; as recollection, however, dawns upon her, and she pourtrays him in imagination as he last appeared to her, when " stepping with Valiant air into the boat," her soul dissolves under the softening influ ence of the me mor i es th us con j ured up, 'and, for the mo ment, even her parent is forgotten. Equally characteristic is the scene where Wolf details the circumstances of finding the body which Norris had murdered. Th', struggle of the wretch's mind, when he learns that tlie corpse was that of his own father, his short-lived remorse, borne down by his hardened and callous nature,, are pourtrayed with the skill and force of one who can, probe the human heart to the quick : " NORRIS. Kept the blood flowing still ? WOLF. It did--more fre; das it flowed, the heart Mora full n is quick did beat. NORRIS. I thought 'twas over warm about the I,:nark! WOLF. Oh, No►ris, say it not. NORRIS. Why, of what value is a spark of life, More than a spark of any other thing ? WOLF. The body was—thy Father's I NORRIS. Devil I Imp Of Hell !, Unsay it, or thou diest, with A lie in thy throat—Who else has heard it from thee ? WOLF. No one. Noma& I am mad ; no wonder if I am ; Wretch, had'st thou stopp'd the old man's blood— WOLF. He h-4d lived. I thought thy interest 'twas that he should die. I knew not then it was thy father. Norms. Devil I Why had I anythng. to say to thee ? And where's the body now ? WOLF. I left it where I fond it. NORRIS. Fool ! thou should'st have carried it To the cliff, and cast it straight into the sea Where ne'er the sand dry. WOLF. Would not the sea Have thrown it up :gain ? NORRIS. The sea ? The earth. Though it were buried in't ten fathom deep, Would throw it up again ! Nothing can make A grave that's deep enough to keep it.—Cast A mountain on't, 'mould heave it olf-7'heilll know it, When it is brought &Are the coroner. WOLF. I have taken care of that. NORRIS. Mangled the features ? WOLF. NORRIS. Savage ! WOLF. For thy sake I did it. NORRIS. True Right I You did very right,— and after all, TVhat was it but a piece of clay 9" There are many other passages in the play fully equal in truth of nature, and terse simplicity of expression, to those which we have just extracted ; in evidence of which we may instance the entire interview that takes place between Marian aud her father, after the latter's condemnation. The following is a brief portion of this exquisitely touching scene. Marian, it should be observed, is sueing old Robert for pardon, which he scornfully denies, telling her that had she really been his daughter, as she pretends, she could never have brought her parent to th• scaffold ROBERT. Thou wort never child of mine! No I —No ;—I never carried thee up and down The beach in my arms, many and many a day, To strengthen thee, when thou wast sickly !—No! I never brought thee from the market town Whene'cr I went t o i t , a pac k et load , Of children's gear I—No 1-:-Never 1 Nor When fever came into the village, and Fix'd its fell gripe on you, I never wattled Ten days and nights running, beside your bed, Living, I know not how, for sloop I took not, And hardly food ! And since your mother died-. MARIAN. Thou'lt kill me, father ! ROBERT. Since your mother died, I have not been a mother and a tather 13oLh--both to thee ! MARIAN. Oh ! spare me M.BERT. I was never Anything to thee I—Call me father !--why A father's life is wrapp'd up in his child I Was mine wrapp'd up in thee?—Thou know'st 'twas not ! How durst thou call me father ?—fasten upon me ! Tint never gave thee proof, sign, anything Of recognition that thou wait my child i Strain'd thee to my heart by the hour I—parting thy hair And smoothing it, and calling thee all things That fondness idolizing thinks upon To speak its yearning lave 1— • HighlY as we admire Mr. Knowles's dramas, we know not that he ever produced a finer one than this. If it do not possess the graceful fancy or poetic feelin of the Hunchback and The Wife, it far surpasses them in its de lineations of character, and power to stir the passions. It was in consequence highly successful ; and could not pos sibly have been better acted. Ward's Black Norris is his best performance, and Miss Kelly herself could not have played Marian with more feeling and propriety than did Miss Huddart. 'Knowles tlirew_much rough energy into the part of Robert, and where a deeper show of.vnsibility was required, (lid not hang fire. At the close of the play the three chief performers were called for before the cut tain, mid the waving of hats and handkerchiefs in pit, b ox , and gallery. . It is not correct, as stated. yesterday, that the front of Messrs. Hitchcock and Roger‘' premises was - blow n down in the ga l e ; only a pane or two of glass was broken. It is asserted that the gas in St. M art i n ' s Church emits a stench even worse than that which deters so , many perso ns f rom f requen ting the theat res. Complaints arc very nat though generally made, that the consumption of tea has greatly increased, its general quality is much (Zeteriorated. The disputes h2tween the operativ e spinners and their employers have not yet been fully adjusted. Mr. Charles 13radhury's hands did not coinmence work before last week, when he agreed to pay by the list prices. Messrs. J. and J. Hague, of Acre-mill, Oldh am , have not yet set tled their differences with th e sp i nners in their employ, who have not resumed work since the commencement of the strike. The masters of from 16 to 0 0 spinning establish ments, united in an associaticit, have had frequent meetings during the dispute wag, their hands, and have resolved that if any member q , annot agreo.with any man in his enaPay befetVg 4 Rivet time, the remainder of the combined are to cease working mills till disputes ho seltledi. Ncitieo thei r the has been given to their hands, that if tko Messrs, 11- , difference s w i t h their spinner% are not arnicabl- -a g ue s .- . fore Frid ay morning (Nov, 4 j4th), they ~, settled be - their es_ta.hAiiirtlonts ou siAturd- - will cease working T...y even i ng.—M anc h es t er vie.S., / Last v , •• . 4 ll— .eek an officer of -the 4th Dragoo n Gu a rds i ...dertook to ride his horse from Dorchester to Blandford i 1 (16 miles) within an hour for a wager o f .50/., which be did, 1 THE POLISH REVOLUTION. Last night a numerous meeting was held at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, for the purpose of commemorating the anniversary of this memorable event. The Hon. Colonel Stanhope was in the Chair, supported by General Dwe.r.. nicki, Major Beaiowski, M. Napoleon ZabLa, and other distinguished Polish emigrants. The rest of the platform was densely Occupied,. and set mad ladies were present. Colonel STANHOPE, on taking the chair at eight o'clock, an hour later than the advertisement mentioned, apologised to the ladies and gentlemen for having so long detained thsen; but the fact was, that his Polish friends being, as might be expected, but slightly versed in English formularies, took a longer tim e than ordinary in preparing their resolutions. He was proud to preside On that occasion. They had met for the purpos e of giving the free and sympathising peo ple of England an opportunity to commemorate anoth er anniv , l.sary of the outbreak of the Polish Revolution,' and thus do their part in encouraging and consoling. the brave patriots of Poland, and transmitting their nanira, their deeds, and their sufferings, as an example, from gene ration to generation.—(Cheers.) It s h ou ld b e b orne la mind that generation.. .(Cheers.) been, from the earlier ages dawn to. the present time, a barrier protecting the rest of Eurepe from the incursions of the barbarians of the North ; the brave p eo pl e o f th a t country had signalised themselv e s i n re pelling the inroads - of despotism, particularly in +2ne 7th and 13th centuries; and when, on the mernoraffi'J 29th of No vember, 1830, they took up arms against Russia, the Cos sacks had ac t ua ll y rece i ve d orders .1' - -rrim the Autocrat of .-, Russia to marc h aga i nst the peep/ of P a ri s . —(Ch eers. ) The amazing increase of Rwssia population and military power, since the days of the Empress Catherine, must fill every reflecting Eurospean with amazement and apprehen sion. Under that Empress they could reckon not more than six milli ons o f men able to bear arms — now thet cal culated on one hundred millions.—(Hear, hear.) From the calamit ous p art i t i on of Poland might be dated most of the That w as misfortu nes o f t h at b rave people. a partition which had been stigmatised by the greatest personages of Europe, as the greatest outrage on the law of nations com mitted in the eighteenth century. At the treaty of Vienna Austria, England, and France *contended for the ind ep en-dence Poland. It was promised by Russi,ts, but instead of granting her her rights, and a native King, she sent try govern Poland the Duke Constantine—a being who scarcely the name of mon--(Hear, hear) —so great and numerous were his atrocities. For more than five years sh e gave her nothing like a- Parlinment. What would Ise the state of this country if it were five years without a Parlia ment?—(Cheers.) The people were also deprived of the pcwer of the press ; their judges were also removed ; men were condemned unheard and untried—immured for life in diimal dungoons, or confined to the frozen solitudes of Si beria. Instead of having a Polish national guard, as gua ranteed by the treaty, Russia sent 10,000 of her own troops into the heart of the country. The national religion was subverted ; the universities were closet 4 .; and a system of espionage was set at work upon tht: affairs of every househ o ld ; an d, fi na ll y, came the orgar;ic statute. (Hear, hear.) The object, then, of the prtsent meeting, was to excite a feeling amongst the people of England, and, if pos sible, throughout the civilized world, that should urge their respective Governments to call upon Russia to adhere to the treaty of Vienna, and grant a practical independence to Poland. (Cheers.) That must be done by public opi nion, or there must be a general war, in which France, Austria, and England, would resist the encroachments and the increase of the Russian power, in co-operation with Poland, Circassia, Georgia, the Caucasus, Persia, and Turkey. (Loud cheering.) If it were necessary to excite further horror and indignation against the mon strous tyranny of Russia he would remind them that that Government had chained the neh a pp y Poles to iron bars like wild beasts, and depriving them of their hereditary names, compelled them to be recognised only by numbers. The women of Poland, the wivr A of exiled patriots, were bribed and forced to marry Rryssians.—(Hear, and groans.) When the Governor of Wa*.saw was besought by an illus trious widow for leave tn• band to th e f am il y tom:ra, 'remove th e rema i ns o f h er hus he said it should be removed to the gallows !—(Sharae, and horror.) These, out of thou sands of examples, "tic thought, would be sufficient to excite the sympathy, tls q. Englishmen, in, generosity, the hor ror an d i n di gnat i on of b'ehalf of a nation renowned for their bravery, and who, tho,u. - .11 now subdued and persecuted, had never yet been ecmquered.—(Cheers.) GeneDwEnmeerovhe comm an d e d an army o f P oles against. 'Aussie in the late war, rose to address the meeting. The. 'appearance of the veteran warrior was hailed with e r .tbsisiastic cheers by his countrymen. He proceeded in d Polish language to recapitulate their struggles and their Sufferings, and to exhort his countrymen to endure their privations with hope and fortitude ; for the sympathy of the generous people of England, taking the lead of other divi lized nations, would ultimately influence the fears of Russia to grant the people of Poland that redress, of which there was no probability from her sense of justice or visitings of remorse. The gallant veteran was frequently cheered. Mr. - BEALS moved the first resolution, to the effect that every effort ought to be made by the people of England and France to procure the restoration and secure the inde pendence of Poland, as the best guarantee of the liberty • and peace of Europe, and the advance of human improve ment and civilization. He was grieved to perceive that Poland had received so little sympathy from England, while we had been pouring in our legions to the aid of the thank less Spaniards, and dispatching our fleets to the support of a wayward girl, who knew not how to uphold a free sceptre. As for Louis Philippe, he was one of the falsest friends of • Poland.—(Hear, hear.) Mr. Beals then proceeded at; great length to review and contradict the statements of a lnamphlet by a " Manchester Manufacturer," lately pub ished, which endeavoured to prove that the subjugation of Poland by Russia would be a national benefit to the former country. Mr. VINCENT seconded the resolution as a member of the working classes. He threw all the blame of the mis fort unes of Poland not on the people, but on the nobility, who by their intriguing and vacillating conduct prevented the revolutionary army from following up its successes. It was in Poland, as in England and every where else, no per manent good could be effected until every tree e of a here ditary nobility had been extirpated.—(Chee r i n g and oppo- • sition.) That was his conviction as an ultra-democratical--. Several of the refugees on the platform said they did not concur in those sentiments, though file Polish nobility were much to blame. Mr. BEAUMONT referred to, h work lately published by a Pole in Paris, to show' that the Poles were not deserv ing of that sympathy which 'they sought. That work said, that " Poland could not 'receive freedom, because it would injure the rights of pror,serty."—(Gre a t uproar, and hoar.) The Poles, who were. Roman Catholics, did not grant re- • ligions liberty to tlae Greeks or the Jews.—(Hisses from the Poles.) T i ne, Poles must not hiss here—or lie would appeal against them, not only to the men, but to every. Englishwoman, Irishwoman, and Scotswoman.—(Laughter,, hear, and, 'great confusion.) Prince Caartoryski lanienteil the fall, of Poland, because ho thereby lost a property e twen'sy thousand slaves.—(Great uproar, hisses, yells, - - an d crios " Off!" made the speake r f or several mi.. ju t : „ i„_ audille.) At length, on th e int er f erence of tl , . e B ernour _ • ahle Chairman, lie vvos heard again, thoughwith most bois terous impatience. Were such people, 11F.: , asked fit for liberty, or worthy of sympathy, while tly.:v rtdined f- , teen millions of men i n bondage a' slP:oar.) e Was the our re no English sympathy for the strugglinn, people of Germ an y, Italy, : Switzerland, an d F rance ?--?--(Great uproar.) Was it not also true that the subscript ions raised in England. were appropriated by Prince CraVtoryski and an aristocra tic synod to the injury of tire really deserving Poles ? (Hear, hear.) Mr. .Beausmotat was proceeding in this strain, until his voice was overwhelmed in a perfect hurri cane of hisses, Mr. GORDON next addressed the meeting. Major Bkmowsev, in a speech 'remarkable for correct English, appealed to the sympathy of the people of Eng land, an d sa i d that by its operation liberty and justice would be soon extended to th e s h o res of the Baltic and the Black and White Seas.--,(Cheers.) Mr. TICHBOURNL' was sorry that the Polish refugees re sident in this country had received so little Government support. All th e y got was an empty barrack and an al lowance, the highest rate of which was 15s. for a General. M. NAPOLEON ZABBA, in a long and eloquent speech, rebutted M r . Beaumont s imputati ons . B y t h e Constitu tion' proclaimed in Poland 41..1791, time most extensive per sonal and commercial freedoin was conferred on Poles, and coequally on foreigners.—(Hear, and cheers.) Mr. BeaumoNT.-7Nes, but it was never enforced.-- (Great uproar and hisses, mingled with the most discod ant outcries.) M. ZABBA—No, because Russia, Austria., and Prussia, would not allow it.--(Hear, hear.) Dr. WADE moved the second resol' that th e meeting ation, to th e e ff ec t , deeply impressed w i t h t h e suffer i ngs of their Polish brethren, desired to express the utmost sym- PathY with th em i n their prese'at distressi ng situation. He trusted the people of Engk'and would do something for the Pole s till the parliament met, and then they would meet . again and make the government do something.—( Hear.) Mr. SAUL seconded the resolution, and hoped that the Press would, by its. 'valuable co-operation, assist in commu nie.sting their se'atiments to the interior of the country and the Continent,. The O.IAIRMAN said that the object of the meeting wa not to collect pecuniary aid ; that was to be done in of places. Mr. FLOOD, as an Irishman, bed to assure the P present of the deep interest his country felt in the we of that brave people. Thanks were then voted to the Gallant Chairman ,an eleven o'clock the meeting separated. Yes.